ON A TRANSPORT
Since the war began and the Germans
undertook the drowning of women and
children by the submarine method I have
crossed the Atlantic four times. Two of these
voyages were on troop transports. Traveling
on a transport is really a pleasure voyage,
except for the military discipline, always a bit
obnoxious to the Anglo-Saxon of the North
American continent--but absolutely necessary
if an army is the thing desired, not a mob. On
a transport the food and sleeping quarters are
all that anyone could desire in a time of war,
and they satisfied all, from the veriest batman
to the highest military officer whose duty it is
to maintain discipline.
On my first transport experience we took
the ship at an Atlantic port some days before
sailing, and no one knew the date or hour of
our intended start except the first officer of
the ship, who received his orders from the
admiralty. Our crowd was an immense one,
made up of men from all the different departments
of the army, and women who were either
trained nurses, or members of the Voluntary
Aid Detachment, going overseas to do their
bit in the hospitals or the convalescent and
rest homes in England and France.
Until the boat started on its voyage, dances
were held nightly on the main deck, but once
we put out to sea, the ship traveled in
darkness. No one was permitted on the decks at
night except the guards, and they were
forbidden to smoke for fear of attracting
attention that was not desirable.
We were not long away from land till a
fairly heavy swell made some of the uninitiated
sea voyagers feel all the pangs of that nauseating
illness, _mal de mer_,--seasickness. One of
the nurses sitting in a deck chair, looking away
off over the swelling billows, said languidly:
"If the Germans torpedoed us now, I wouldn't
even put on a life preserver." And another
traveler, a Tommy with a markedly Jewish
cast of countenance, as the ship took a more
pronounced dip than heretofore, exclaimed
loudly:
"My God! She's a submarine!" The usual
sympathetic roar of laughter was the only
solace that he received; but one of his pals who
saw him leaning over the ship's side, giving an
excellent dinner to the fishes, stepped up to
him and, giving him a resounding slap on the
shoulder, said:
"What's the matter, poor old Ikey? Are
you seasick?"
"Am I seasick?" Ikey roared, glaring at him.
"What da hell do ye tink I'm doin' dis for?
For notting?"
We had not proceeded far on our voyage
when a cast-iron order was issued that all must
wear their life-belts at all hours of the day.
And shortly, life-boat drill became a daily
occurrence at irregular hours. A bugle call
to drill would be given, a call that might be
real for all that anyone knew, and each
company, section, and unit took its apportioned
part of the deck, to be inspected by the higher
officers. Life boats were kept conveniently
hanging over the side of the ship for
emergencies, and certain officers were detailed to each
boat whose duty it was in case of mishap, to
maintain order during the loading and launching
of that boat. Before long this drill was
carried out with the most exact precision.
There were a few other parades daily for the
different sections. A sick parade was held
each morning, and a hospital established for
those too sick to stay up and about. The
medical officers and nurses were detailed in turn
to do duty in this institution. But nothing of
a very serious nature turned up on the voyage.
Otherwise time was whiled away much as
usual on shipboard. Some of us took to the
gymnasium, trying out all the exercises from
throwing the medicine ball to riding the horse,
at which some of the cavalry officers would
give that excellent piece of advice to those
beginning to learn to ride:
Keep your head and your heart up,
Your hands and your heels down;
Keep your knees close to your horse's side,
And your elbows close to your own.
The regular stewards, who were serving on
the ship as in peace times, amused themselves
by telling tales that they were supposed to have
heard in confidence from the wireless operator,
and which they would whisper into your ears
in a supposedly friendly manner at any and
every opportunity. They were tales to the
effect that just ahead of us last night
such-and-such a ship was torpedoed and sunk by
the Germans with all on board, "and not a
soul was saved." They would add that the
Germans had a most intense desire to get our
boat; why, it was common talk in New York,
so a friend had written to them, that a sub
would get us this trip; "as a matter of fact,
sir, betting is five to one that they will sink
us." What a ghastly sense of humor some of
those stewards have!
However, the days slipped by, and no one
seemed to be at all worrying as to his or her
safety. The last couple of days out from
England the guns, fore and aft, were gotten ready
for business, in case the Hun dared to show
the nose of his periscope in our neighborhood.
Eyes looked in all directions searching for the
tell-tale trail of a torpedo, and, though many
were called out, few chose to materialize.
Suddenly one morning someone spied out a couple
of those fast, dangerous-looking torpedo boats
which swung about, and crossed our bows, and
thenceforth accompanied us like a pair of
faithful bulldogs accompanying their master on
horseback.
Though no one had expressed a word of fear
of the submarines, and no person, man or
woman, on board had seemed to worry in the least
as to the possible dangers from torpedoes, it
was noticeable at once that a pressure or
tension had been withdrawn. In the smoking
room the hum of voices rose to a much higher
pitch than it had attained during the previous
twenty-four hours of the voyage, during which
we had felt that a danger might lurk unseen
about us. The gayety on deck became
appreciably more merry. These torpedo boats
accompanied us till we reached the safety of the
harbor; and as we once again placed our feet
upon the soil we felt that in war as in peace the
end of a voyage is often the most welcome part
of it.
But was it the end of the voyage? Ah, no,
it was but the beginning; because for the men
there are many hard roads to travel ere they
reach that which they set out to attain--a
goal of peace and liberty for the small and
the large nations, protected by the democracies
of the old and the new world. And the women
who accompanied us will soothe many a poor
boy's pain or ease his troubled mind, and will
write many a letter of comfort to his loved
ones at home, ere they join us at that peaceful
goal we all desire to reach.